


Road Trip

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex in the Impala, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6033646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and the reader and Impala sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> I do not recommend having sex the way Dean and the reader do in this fic, Dean’s right, it’s dangerous. Always be safe when operating a motor vehicle, gang.

 

You didn’t think there was anything more boring than the lonely highways stretching across Kansas and Nebraska. Miles and miles of nothing but cornfields and farms. Every time you drove through here, it took all of your willpower not to fall asleep, even if you were the one driving. You were having an especially hard time tonight because you weren’t driving, you were sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, staring into the dark as Dean sped through the night.

You shifted slightly, the skirt you were wearing hitching up along your thigh. You blew out a breath, still irritated that you’d had to make a quick getaway and the two of you hadn’t had time to change out of your FBI clothes into something more suitable for an eight hour road trip across two states. You’d ditched the suit jacket an hour or so ago, and Dean had managed to get out of his jacket and yank off his tie at a stoplight on the way out of town, but you’d been trying unsuccessfully to get comfortable in the almost too short skirt for several hundred miles. You shifted again, trying and failing to yank it down.

“Problems, sweetheart?” Dean murmured, eyes on the road.

“Damn skirt is irritating me,” you muttered.

He glanced over at you, his eyes dragging up your naked leg, to the edge of your skirt, his tongue flicking out to lick lightly at his full, pink lips. “Come here,” he said, tipping his head to the side, green eyes sparkling in the dashboard lights. 

You slid across the seat, your skirt pulling up until it was resting just above the bottom curve of your ass. Dean’s hand settled on your thigh, squeezing it gently. You rested your hand on his knee, your head on his shoulder.

The only sounds were the low rumble of the engine and the classic rock playing on the radio as Dean drove through the dark night. His hand was warm where it rested on your leg, his body relaxed, his demeanor calm. You loved it when he drove, for some reason it was unbelievably sexy to watch him control the three thousand pound vehicle, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your leg. He always seemed so at ease, so comfortable behind the wheel of his “baby.” It was a huge turn on.

Your hand drifted lazily up and down his thigh, no intention behind the movement, no conscious decision to do  _ anything _ , touching him was a normal thing, natural. It wasn’t until he shifted awkwardly and let out a barely audible breathy gasp that you thought your touch might be affecting him. His hand tightened just the tiniest little bit on your leg. 

You glanced up at him, expecting his eyes to be on the road, but instead they were on you, tracing the line of your leg, his hand sliding farther up your thigh, his fingers just inches away from your rapidly dampening core.

“Dean,” you murmured quietly. “Watch the road.” 

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re making me crazy, baby,” he whispered. “Makes it hard to concentrate.”

“Yeah?” you said quietly. “Is that so?” You ran your hand up his leg, settling it on the growing bulge in his pants, cupping him gently.

This time the groan was noticeably louder, his hips jutting forward slightly to push himself against your hand. The Impala picked up speed, not much, but enough that you noticed it. You smiled and slid your hand under the waistband of his dress pants, popping open the button. Your fingers brushed against him, still trapped beneath the thin layer of his cotton briefs. You deftly pulled the zipper down, rubbing his half hard cock through the soft material until it twitched beneath your hand. Dean’s chest was rising and falling as his breathing sped up. You turned, pushed yourself against his side and shoved your hand beneath his underwear, taking him in your hand and stroking his full length.

“Y/N,” he growled through his clenched teeth. “I’m trying to drive.” 

You smiled wickedly and dragged your tongue up the side of his neck, stopping at his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth and biting it gently. Dean growled again, gripping the wheel now with both hands, knuckles white. His cock was hard and twitching in your hand as you ran your hand up and down it.

You ducked beneath his arm, lying yourself flat on the front seat, one foot braced against the door, the other leg hanging off the seat onto the floor. You took hold of the waistband of Dean’s dress pants, tugging at them.

“Up,” you ordered.

He lifted his ass off the seat just enough that you could pull his pants down past the edge of his ass and pull his now throbbing cock free. You cupped his balls, caressing him gently, and slowly licked around the head of his cock, your tongue dipping into the slit, the salty taste of his pre-come making you moan with anticipation. God, there wasn’t anything you liked better than sucking Dean off, anywhere, anytime, anything to make him squirm, to hear that low groan rumble through his chest when he was turned on, when your lips were wrapped around him, when you swallowed him down. It was the ultimate power trip for you. 

You slid your lips down Dean’s shaft, relaxing your throat so you could take in as much of him as possible. You wrapped your hand around the base, squeezing gently as you pulled him into your mouth. He let out a breathy gasp when he hit the back of your throat, his hips rising up off the seat to push himself into the wet heat of your mouth, the engine stuttering slightly. He dropped his hand from the steering wheel and cupped the back of your head, not to push or demand anything of you, but because he wanted he touch you, to feel your hair wrapped around his fingers as you fucked him with your mouth. 

You released him long enough to steal a glance at him, checking to see if he was watching the road, still stroking him as you chanced a look. He was completely relaxed, staring straight ahead, a blissed out look on his face, one you were able to make out even in the dim lights from the dashboard, eyes half-closed, lips parted slightly. His fingers massaged the back of your head as you slid him back into your mouth, scraping your teeth lightly along the shaft, tracing the thick vein with your tongue.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighed. “That feels fucking amazing.” He ran his hand down your back, to the curve of your ass, pulling the bottom of the skirt up until it was around your waist, your ass bared to him, nothing covering it but the thin silky material of the nearly too small underwear you’d put on this morning. He twisted his fingers in the back of them, tugging at them, pulling them tight and making them rub against your clit. 

You let out a muffled sigh at the feel of the soft material pressing into you. You pushed your hips into the seat, desperate for some kind of friction. Dean’s hand rubbing over your ass as you swallowed him down, your head bobbing faster and faster as you pulled him deeper into your mouth, until your nose was pressed against his soft curls and you could smell the sweat mingled with the cheap motel soap he’d used a couple of hours ago in the shower. You moaned, your throat vibrating around Dean’s cock, drawing a moan from him as well. His thighs tensed beneath your hands, they need to thrust up into your mouth warring with the need to keep control of the deadly piece of machinery he was driving. He was fighting and winning that war, a faint trembling of his muscles the only clue that he was barely holding himself back. 

You pushed yourself up on your knees, adjusting your angle, sliding your mouth down Dean’s cock, gagging a little, your throat flexing around the hard shaft you were swallowing down and then you were sucking him greedily, face buried in his lap, one hand kneading his balls, caressing them, massaging them, doing all the things you knew drove him out of his mind. With an abruptness you weren’t expecting,  Dean tapped the brake, hard, making the car jerk and the tires squeal, nearly tumbling you to the floor before it resumed its previous speed. His fingers tangled in your hair again and he pulled, hard enough to get your attention, but not hard enough to hurt. You released him and looked up at him, a question in your eyes.

“Roll over,” he demanded.

You did as he said, rolling to your back, your head in his lap. You reached up and took his cock in your hand, slick with your saliva, sliding your hand along his length, turning your head to mouth at the underside of it, as well as his balls. 

Dean’s hand drifted down your chest, popping open the buttons on your white dress shirt until it fell open, his eyes never leaving the road, brushing his fingers across the nipples, bringing them to attention, before moving down your stomach. He shoved his hand between your legs and beneath your silk underwear, running his fingers through your wet folds. 

Your legs fell open and using the heels of your feet, you pushed yourself closer to him, your head now resting on Dean’s leg that was next to the door. You continuing stroking him as he pushed two fingers into your wet pussy, pumping them in and out at a quick pace, the heel of his hand pressed tight against your clit. You were moaning obscenely, sucking and licking at Dean’s cock and balls, your head spinning with the mass of emotions and sensations overwhelming you as you rocked back and forth on Dean’s fingers, getting yourself off, almost ready to come.

But you weren’t going to come on Dean’s fingers, because the endgame with Dean was always having his cock buried deep inside you, to have him fucking you into oblivion. And even though you were close, Jesus, so close to coming, you pushed yourself away from him and into a sitting position. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he grumbled, his hand falling away from you, the engine rumbling as he pushed on the accelerator out of frustration.  

“Just sit tight,” you said. You slid your panties off, letting them fall to the floor, then you were straddling Dean, facing him, shoving your leg between his side and the door, holding his cock in your hand and lowering yourself onto him. The car slowed and drifted over the yellow line, Dean’s foot sliding off the gas pedal as his concentration faltered briefly. Then he was pushing himself up, his cock sliding deeper inside you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and up to your shoulder and pulled you against his chest, looking over your shoulder out the windshield, driving with one hand.

You braced your hands on the back of the seat, moving your hips forward a little bit, rocking into him, the space tight and confined between his body and the steering wheel, leaving you no choice but to keep your movements even and controlled. You kissed his neck, rocking forward again, making Dean growl, that low, rumbling growl deep in his chest that you’d been waiting to hear. You raised yourself up, until just the tip of his cock was inside you, then you lowered yourself back onto him, gasping as he filled you. You rocked forward and back, over and over, faster and faster, your head thrown back, gasping and moaning as you fucked yourself on Dean’s cock.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Dean breathed in your ear. “I...shit, what the fuck...goddamn it, yes…” 

You were lost, completely overcome as you chased your orgasm, so much so that you barely noticed the car slowing and pulling to the side of the road until Dean was reaching around you and slamming it into park and then both of his hands were on your waist and he was pulling you down onto him, thrusting wildly, his hips snapping up to meet yours, his mouth sucking at your lace covered nipples.

“Fuck, yes,” you moaned, riding him harder and faster. 

Dean slid his hand between your bodies, easily finding and rubbing your clit, his thumb kneading it in small tight circles. He stared up at you, those deep green eyes looking deep into your soul, knowing everything you wanted, everything you needed. 

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, his tongue drifting over those luscious lips.

That was all it took for you to come undone, the orgasm bursting through you like an explosion, sending you reeling, your head spinning, your vision going white, every nerve ending on fire with the onslaught of sensations attacking you. 

Dean buried his face between your breasts as your walls clamped down around him and he came, filling you with his hot spurts of come, his fingers tight on your waist as he held you in place, his hips jerking up to meet yours.

You gasped, still rocking against him, wave after wave of pure pleasure consuming you. Dean pulled your mouth to his, kissing you like it had been months instead of hours since his lips had touched yours. You moaned into his mouth, voicing your approval without saying a word.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, Dean’s cock softening inside you, your lips moving together, reveling in each other’s touch. It wasn’t until a semi-truck blew past, horn blaring, that you finally broke apart.

Dean pushed your hair off your face and pressed one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. “That was amazing,” he chuckled. “Dangerous, but absolutely, fucking amazing.” He lifted you up and set you on the seat beside him. 

You laughed and threw your arms around his neck. “Best road trip, yet,” you grinned.

Dean chuckled as he fixed his pants and started the engine. He glanced over his shoulder and pulled the Impala back onto the road. “I’d have to agree with that assessment,” he mumbled. “Definitely more fun than driving with my gassy brother.”


End file.
